


This Must Be The Place

by itsavolcano



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst to Fluff, F/M, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, TW: Brief Character Death, time loops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 19:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14409465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsavolcano/pseuds/itsavolcano
Summary: Just because Fitz believes time can’t be changed doesn’t mean he’s right.





	This Must Be The Place

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to dilkirani for the beta! And for informing me this was a good balance of angst and happy.

Although time is a construct, Fitz still tracks the days since his daughter’s birth, drawing tiny chimpanzees on the walls of their shared bunk for each approximate rotation of a sun that no longer exists. He’s almost out of room despite squishing the faces together and curling them around pipes and air ducts.

“It’s the big ‘un, baby girl,” he muses, playfully, as she watches him sketch a party hat on today’s primate. “How old are you, now?”

“Five!” she shouts, full of glee, holding up a hand. Jemma slips back into their bunk, doing her best to smile through the exhaustion. Her eyes light up when she sees their daughter is awake. 

“Happy birthday, little posey,” She holds out a small orange—Fitz has no idea where she found fresh fruit on a base careening in space, but if anyone could, it would be Jemma. “A bit of sunshine for our sweet Rosie.”

Their daughter rolls the fruit between her little hands before Jemma reaches down to peel back the rind. 

“Today is a big day and what better way to celebrate than with a new tradition.” 

Jemma holds a section of orange to his lips and he bites, the fruit exploding on his tongue, tasting bright and sweet. He hasn’t tasted anything like it in years.

xXx

His daughter is only a few hours old and he has already failed her. He has failed her mother. If Jemma were here she would point out all the ways such logic is flawed, that he could have no sooner prevented her hemorrhage than he could have carried their daughter, but— 

He can almost hear her in his ear, can almost feel her hand on his shoulder. He shakes his head, pushing the sensation to the corners of his mind. He cannot afford to fracture. His daughter is only a few hours old and safe in his arms.

Although fed and dry, she fusses and wiggles. 

“I know, Rosie.” It feels strange, holding his daughter, calling her the name he and Jemma had picked together. He exhales, the air escaping his lungs on a ragged breath. “I miss her, too.”

Again, the baby fusses and he wonders what would Jemma do? He remembers something about skin-to-skin contact and bonding, so he opens his shirt and tucks her to his chest, drawing the fabric back around her tiny body. Then, he sings the only song he can remember in this moment.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” The baby settles down, unaffected when his voice catches. “You make me happy when skies are gray—”

xXx 

When Jemma returns to their bunk, her timid smile and teary eyes confirm Fitz’s suspicions. His heart drops and he hates that. This is supposed to be a joyful moment but instead it is another piece of the puzzle falling into place. Of course,  _ of course,  _ they never had a choice—time is fixed and they cannot stop the destruction of humanity no matter the sacrifice. 

In truth, they had thought the sacrifice had been made for them or that Deke had been mistaken about his heritage. Over the subsequent years, after the earth fractured apart, Jemma’s cycle grew infrequent at best, her body reacting to the stress and poor diet of being underground. 

But now, another inevitable piece slid into place. Their daughter will be born at the Lighthouse. 

This isn’t how he imagined discovering his wife is pregnant but he knows Jemma is equally stunned. She hasn’t moved or said a word and he realizes she is waiting on him to set the tone, to finish processing this news for the both of them. 

An image of his wife floats through his mind’s eye—the golden sun illuminating her as she walks to him through a field of heather, a giggling little girl burying her head in her mother’s skirt. In this moment, he wishes he believed in multiple universes, that it was fact rather than just a theory. He wishes for a timeline where they have a child that never felt the hardships of a life underground, of a life hunted by Kree or tormented by dwellers doing anything to save their own hide.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—is keeping them from appreciating this new life they’ve created. The circumstances are less than ideal, certainly, but they had wanted a child longer than either would admit. Their next adventure.

With a smile and a tilt of his head, he reaches for her. “Well this was unexpected.” His tone is light and teasing. Despite the uncertainty, he  _ is _ happy. Jemma snorts a watery laugh, burying her face in his neck as she crashes into his lap. 

“You’re gonna be a great mum.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Hmm,” he tips his mouth up, kissing just below her ear. “It’s all but a proven theory.”

xXx

It took preventing both the planet from fracturing and an alien invasion for Fitz and Simmons to mutually agree to leave SHIELD for the controlled safety of a lab. It was time to settle down in Scotland. But first, Fitz had surprised his wife with a honeymoon in England, precluded with a (slightly more legally binding) vow renewal in her parents’ garden. They took their one rule to heart and walked down the aisle together.

Now, several years had passed and they had set up a quiet little cottage life. It was everything Jemma had hoped for and Fitz had always found her hopeful nature contagious. It had all led them to this moment in time, in Perthshire, in the back garden, as the sun continued to stretch up into the sky.  

“We have waited so long for you.” Fitz whispers to his son, the newborn’s head cradled in his palm. “You are so loved, and I’ll do my best to show you everyday.” The baby’s lip curled in a soft yawn as he let out a snuffle.

“Already bored by your dad, I see how it is.” Fitz smiles as he shifts the baby closer to his chest. “I’ve heard it all before, don’t worry. Won’t hold it against you.”

“There you are,” Jemma calls out softly. He turns and his breath catches—a strange sensation of déjà vu running through him as he takes in the sight of his wife, the sun casting a gold light all around her as she walks to him. In her arms, their daughter sleeps. 

“Should you be carrying her?” Rosie’s excitement for her baby brother’s arrival had dampened once he’d arrived. She’d taken to clinging to her mother and fussing right along with Samuel. 

Jemma only shrugs before sitting down next to him with a soft wince. He makes a mental note to let her rest all afternoon. 

“We had a bit of a cuddle and then I wanted to see where my boys were, so here we are.” 

He feels the corner of his mouth tick up in a half grin at the casual way Jemma addresses their family. Never in a million lifetimes could he have guessed they would be here, in this moment, living this life. He’d hoped, of course, for a future with Jemma but— Tears prick at the back of his eyes and his wife must notice the change in his mood. She reaches up and caresses his cheek just as she has dozens of times before. Wordlessly, he tilts his head and presses a kiss to her warm palm. 

Samuel sniffles again, as if somehow feeling neglected even in sleep. 

“How is he?” Jemma tips her head down to Fitz’s shoulder, Rosie slung over both of their laps. 

“Perfect. Everything’s perfect.”


End file.
